An Exercise In Control the updated version
by Carrion's Comfort
Summary: How can your deepest desire become your worst nightmare?
1. Chapter 1

Title: An Exercise in Control  
  
Author: Carrion's Comfort  
  
Rating: R to hard R (depending on how squeamish you get)  
  
Category: Romance/Angst (Here be darkness)  
  
Spoilers: All Season 1 is fair game  
  
Disclaimer: They're not mine. It took me 24 steps to admit that. I had to do the class twice  
  
Summary: How does your deepest wish, become your worst nightmare  
  
Notes: If you want to feedback, feedback. Either way, this is just to get this damn idea out of my head. If you want to archive this, please ask. As this is un-betaed, I claim all responsibility for any mistakes.  
  
*********************************  
  
It wasn't meant to be this way.  
  
The phrase looped constantly through his brain. He'd thought about it, dreamed about it and prayed for it, but this...this would make a mockery of every secret hope he...they...had held onto.  
  
Meeting her eyes, he saw them filled with unshed tears, tears she wouldn't give Them the satisfaction of seeing. Despite the horror of the situation, he almost smiled at her bravado, the loop stopped for just a second -one blessed moment- and suddenly he was taken back to their first meeting. Clown-red hair, swollen jaw, streaming mascara...but her eyes -filled with fire, passion, hate-...it may not have been love at first sight, but it was definitely somewhere in that vicinity.  
  
"Your decision Mr. Vaughn."  
  
God, that voice. In tone, similar to her daughter's (even with the hint of Russian in it), but lacking any of the warmth. Lacking anything. It could have been a robot's voice. Laura, Irina, whomever, was Sydney's mother by genetics only. He thought he had hated her when he found out about his father, and when he had held Sydney as she cried. Hate didn't even scratch the surface of what he felt now.  
  
The kick to Sydney's stomach, wrenched an involuntary groan from her. He jerked violently at his restraints, and gagged against the duct tape over his mouth.  
  
"You're taking too long Mr. Vaughn." Irina's voice was polite, almost bored. "A simple nod of the head and she won't have to hurt anymore. You know you want to, and you know she wants to. Surely you aren't going to let the CIA handbook stand in the way. It didn't in Taipei." She moved to stand directly in front of him, tilting his head up so he was forced to look into her eyes. Eyes so similar to Sydney's and yet so diametrically different. "Oh, I see," she purred " it's not the CIA handbook that stands in your way, it's your own personal handbook. The one filled with all your -or should I say- your father's notions of honour." The hate shining in his eyes made her smile even wider. "You're as deluded as he was."  
  
"Fuck you, Mom." Sydney bit out from across the room, unable to stay silent any longer "The only things you know, that you can understand, are destruction and pain."  
  
For a moment he was certain that that was it. Irina surprised him though, laughing with genuine amusement. "Oh I understand all right Sydney. Don't forget I have been watching you for almost thirty years. I know you, inside and out. And I think it would be fair to say I know Mr. Vaughn pretty well too."  
  
"You don't know anything about us" Sydney spat back, sickened by her mother's smug assumptions  
  
"I know," Irina continued calmly, disregarding Sydney's impassioned statement "that Michael Vaughn loves you, and that you love him. I even have your intense -albeit premature- goodbye scene, in my nightclub, on tape. I know he would do anything for you, just as I know, you would risk you life for him." She moved from him to Sydney, kneeling down and lifting her daughter's face off the dirty floor. "It takes a lot to beat me in a fight Sydney, and I am not ashamed to say you thoroughly beat me that day. I have watched you fight, and you never fought like that before."  
  
She was silent for a minute, and Vaughn watched as she unconsciously smoothed Sydney's hair and brushed away the dirt clinging to it. For a moment she wasn't 'Irina', The Man, the traitor, she was Sydney's mother, the one from the stories he had first heard, before KGB codes in a book re- shaped their lives. But then she stood abruptly turning her attention back to him, and she was once again Irina, The Man... his father's killer.  
  
"I grow tired of this." Her voice could have cut diamonds. "Perhaps you need an incentive." She nodded to Sark, who eagerly came to her. "David, see if you can persuade Mr. Vaughn a little, but mind" she added sharply "just a little." Sark's smile dimmed slightly, but he nodded before predatorily moving down to where Sydney was bound and guarded.  
  
His hands at her shoulders made Vaughn and Sydney tense in unconscious synchrony, and as it slid towards the buttons of her top, Vaughn jerked so hard against his handcuffs, his wrists bled. He didn't notice. All he could focus on was Sark's hands; first as they roughly tied a gag around her mouth, then as they wandered casually over Sydney's tense body.  
  
"You can stop this at any time," Irina murmured in his ear, before she delicately peeled away the duct tape from his mouth "I don't want to have to make her suffer anymore than she has to. Do you, Michael?"  
  
"You can not do this." He rasped out "Please don't do this." When it came to Sydney, Vaughn was not too proud to beg.  
  
"I'm afraid that is not an option. Sydney got the advantage in Taipei, and much as I am proud of her for that, I need the advantage back." The regret was real in her voice but Vaughn found no comfort in that, he knew what was coming next.  
  
"Either you will have sex with my daughter while we film it, or we film her with David. While you get to watch. Naturally. And afterwards if Sydney still refuses to help me, a copy of the tape will reach both Sloane and Devlin. I'm sure you can connect the rest of the blood-spattered dots Michael. Could you bear having her blood on your hands? Do you think she could bear anymore blood on hers...especially yours?"  
  
He wanted to be sick, in fact it was the main reason he didn't...couldn't answer Irina, not that there could be any 'right' answer. His mind scrambled for an out, a loophole, anything. What he finally came up with wasn't much, but he was twenty steps beyond 'grasping at straws'.  
  
"You can't do it. If you use Sark and you send the tape to either SD-6 or the CIA, they'll know it wasn't consensual. They'll know he raped her. That you let that your daughter get raped, by that animal."  
  
The blow to his face was unexpected and made him taste blood, but he welcomed the pain. It kept him from losing his mind.  
  
"I have to confess I am disappointed in you Agent Vaughn." Vaughn wondered if he was punch drunk, because Irina's voice did actually sound disappointed. " Do you think we'd I'd be stupid enough to send a tape which made my daughter a bigger heroine than she already is to either the CIA or SD-6. Every contingency was thought of. If you choose not to help Sydney, if you choose to abandon Sydney to 'that animal' we have a nice little cocktail for her in a syringe which will have her higher than Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds." He felt her breath singe his ear as she leaned into him, as if to tell a secret "But you know what the best part is, the whole time she'd think it was you. She'd be seeing you, imagining that it was your hands roaming all over her body, your mouth claiming hers and...do you want me to go on?"  
  
Vaughn found himself looking straight into Irina's eyes, straight into madness.  
  
Don't try to appeal to my 'better' side Mr. Vaughn." The robot voice was back. "Don't try to appeal to my maternal side either. We're fighting a war here. I picked my side, and Sydney picked hers in Taipei. She knows the risks."  
  
"You're crazy. You're fucking crazy." He whispered more to himself, than to her.  
  
"And you are out of options Michael. Yes or No?"  
  
His eyes wildly searched the room, hoping for some reprieve or rescue. He knew none would be forthcoming. Finally he allowed himself to look at Sydney. Both her hands and legs were bound, the plastic cutting cruelly in to her creamy skin. The gag was obviously chafing the soft skin around her mouth. She had a large bruise forming on her left cheekbone and her hair was matted from the blow she had taken. Slowly his gaze met hers. He hadn't known what to expect but what he saw in her eyes floored him.  
  
Trust.  
  
Steady, unwavering trust.  
  
In him.  
  
Their connection was abruptly broken as Sark greedily began to paw at her breasts.  
  
Her eyes snapped shut, and though she refused to flinch away from the touch, Vaughn heard her involuntary mewl of protest.  
  
And it was settled.  
  
"I'll do it." Vaughn heard himself whispering.  
  
**************************************  
  
  
  
Vaughn refused to look at Irina when he agreed -he didn't need to look at her to know she was smiling-, instead he focused on the relief and gratitude he saw in Sydney's eyes. It calmed him, steadied him, and gave him something to hold onto.  
  
"I knew you could be reasonable Mr. Vaughn," Irina was back to purring "just as I knew all you needed was the right sort of incentive." Once again she gripped his face, but this time not to dominate- she just looked at him, searching, almost, for something only she could see. Vaughn didn't look away. Some instinct -that same instinct he had had about Sydney- told him that this was a test, one he couldn't afford to fail.  
  
They held gazes, and it surprised everyone -except Sydney and possibly Irina herself- that it was not Vaughn who looked away first. Nodding in unspoken acknowledgement to him, she turned her attention back to Sydney but Vaughn's voice stopped her.  
  
"Just a minute." The authority made Irina turn around sharply "I said I'd do it, and I will... but nothing is going to happen unless you agree to the conditions I have."  
  
"I don't think you are in a position to demand anything, Mr. Vaughn." Sark taunted from his corner.  
  
"Shut up David." Irina commanded, without bothering to look at him "When I want your input, I'll ask for it...Continue Mr. Vaughn."  
  
"First of all, you have to untie Sydney...fully. Nothing is going to happen if either of us is bound in any way." Irina only inclined her head in assent to his request, still Vaughn felt as if he has passed yet another one of her tests. "Second, when this happens," he paused, before continuing in a steely tone, "none of you are in here."  
  
"But of course." Her smooth acceptance was obviously a shock to her henchmen, but she didn't let the rumblings of her cohorts distract her. "The point of this exercise Michael, was not about giving us a 'free show'...despite what some may have assumed," Sark, who was on the verge of saying something, took a hasty step back " at the risk of repeating myself, this is about control. Nothing else." Vaughn wasn't so sure it was 'just about control', but he was hardly in a position to argue " As I'm sure you've both realized," Irina continued, seemingly unaware of Vaughn's scrutiny " we've had cameras installed in here for months. We will be in another warehouse...monitoring the situation."  
  
It was better than he had hoped for but Vaughn was still unsure. "And after? What happens to us after?" There seemed little point in asking, but he had to know.  
  
"After, is up to you. You'll be free to leave, and later at some point both of you will be contacted."  
  
"Do I have your word on that?"  
  
This time he took everyone off-guard, Irina included.  
  
"My word?!" Though amused, the words were laced with bitterness.  
  
"Yes. Your word." Vaughn's steadily replied.  
  
"Yes. You do." The words lacked her usual nuances of scorn or boredom. "I'm glad I was right about you Michael." she said softly -a minute later-, a curious half-smile softening her face. A moment of recognition passed between them, before Irina looked at Sark and the other men in the room. "It's time. David, see to it everything is ready."  
  
The men filed out obediently, all obviously knowing what they had to do. The scuffing sound of their dying footsteps was the only sound in the warehouse for a while, as Irina, Vaughn and Sydney all remained in their places, watching each other.  
  
******************************************  
  
End Part 1 of 2 


	2. Chapter 2

Irina chose to break the stand-off by untying Sydney's gag and hands -albeit carefully. Once again she unconsciously smoothed away the dirt from her daughter's face, and Vaughn was relieved that Sydney suffered her mother's attentions without comment. Coming back to herself, Irina abruptly stopped her caresses and seemed to move as far away from Sydney as she could. Tossing the key that would unlock his handcuffs into the centre of the room, she left silently.  
  
As soon as they heard no more footsteps, Sydney launched into action, tearing frantically first at her bound feet, and then clumsily opening his imprisoned hands. Vaughn couldn't help the groan of pain, and relief, that escaped him as he slowly moved his shoulders but ignoring their brutal throbbing, he held Sydney, who as suddenly as she had started moving, now looked like a marionette doll ... sans strings.  
  
"I'm sorry." She whispered after minute.  
  
"I'm not." He assured her, enjoying the feel of her silken hair against his jaw. "N'Etre pas d'honteux, la femme-votre privilège enclot le repos, et est la sortie du repos."  
  
At that, she pulled his head down to hers, and kissed him. Bruisingly, desperately, passionately.  
  
He should have stopped her. Should have tried to talk, but it was Sydney. Sydney's mouth clinging to his...Sydney's strong, slim arms winding around his neck to pull him closer -it could never be close enough- to her ... Sydney ... Sydney ... his alpha and his omega.  
  
Following her down to the dirty floor of the warehouse, Vaughn felt a sharp pang of regret, pierce through the haze of ache, need, lust and love. It shouldn't have been like this. The loop threatened to begin again, but then Sydney's teeth nipped and worried the curve of his neck, and that accursed loop was silenced, and once again all that mattered was her and himself . They were far away from the ever-present grime of the warehouse; there was no contingent of leering henchman waiting outside; no Sark, no Irina. Just the two of them .... together ...finally.  
  
It could have been a minute, or it could have been an hour later -time now measured by them in kisses and caresses- but suddenly Vaughn found himself poised above Sydney who stared so hopefully and trustingly up at him. The blinding need that had coursed through him, was sated -temporarily- as he just marveled at her, at being with her.  
  
"Comme je voit mon âme reflété dans nature; Comme je voit par une brume, celui avec inexpressible et beauté, Voit le courbé tête, et bras a plié le sein-le femelle je voit... la pièce hors de cela-la réponse de la même manière ungovernable; les Cheveux, le sein, les hanches, le tournant de jambes, les mains négligentes qui tombant, tout diffusé-la mine trop diffusée; Baisser piquée par le flux, et le flux piquée par le grossir d'ebb-love-chair et délicieuxment le faire mal." The words seemed specifically written for Sydney and since he had none of his none -she defied the everyday lexicon- he was content to borrow, from those wiser. He wanted to stop talking, to let loose his primal need for the succor of her flesh, but he had to tell her. If he had learned nothing else from Irina's 'exercise', it was that the only people -person- he was fooling, was himself...and possibly Sydney. They would never be able to be 'purely professional'. Too many factors had bound the inextricably together forever.  
  
How strange it was that their imprisonment, their lesson in obedience, had finally freed him from the shackles of the CIA code, his father's code, and most of all his own doubts and fears. It should have been strange, but it wasn't. Everything made sense with her in his arms.  
  
He loved her. Everything he was, belonged to her. It had been like this for a very long time, and finally he found no shame in telling her so. "Ceci est le femelle forme; Un divin nimbus exhale d'il de tête payer; Il attire avec féroce indéniable attraction! Je suis dessiné par son souffle comme si j'étais non plus qu'une vapeur impuissante-toutes chutes de côté mais me et il."  
  
Her tears didn't scare, didn't make him wonder if he had said too much, or pressed to hard. No. He knew exactly why she cried, and if he hadn't felt free before, he would have at that moment.  
  
Pulling him down so that his face was only inches from her, Sydney kissed him tenderly, sweetly, with none of the desperation and fear of their first. Trailing kisses to his ear she whispered the three words he had so often dreamt about. "I love you Michael Vaughn."  
  
There was no more to be said, not then anyway. Instead, he kissed her as she guided him into her. ***********************************************************************  
  
"I didn't want this to happen, you know." The words might have had a sting to them, if she had not been curled so completely to his side, interspersing her words with little, suckling, kisses. " I tried so hard not to love you Vaughn. But you made it impossible. I think I first realized it on the pier...God, it scared me so much. You scared me so much. You still do. No one's ever loved me like you do. No matter how bitchy I get, no matter what I say... Why?"  
  
He rolled on his side towards her, taking his time to try and find the right words to tell her. "Honestly Sydney, I just don't know. I mean, I could love you because you are so brave, or because you never give up, or because you're just so beautiful...and I do, but I love you in a way...I can't really explain..... Anam Cara. That's about as close to it as I can come..... You're my soul friend."  
  
One tear slid down her cheek, and he gently thumbed it away. Another followed, and he did the same. Again. And again. Until there were too many tears for him to wipe away. Knowing there was nothing he could say, Vaughn just held her to him as close as he could.  
  
"What are we going to do Michael?" Sydney mumbled from her haven "You know as well as I do, she's not going to stop at the tape. I don't know what makes me sicker. The fact that she taped us, or the fact that I'm hoping she 'only' wanted to tape us."  
  
A note of hysteria entered her voice, and Vaughn forestalled her impending breakdown the only way he could. He kissed her. It was desperate and hard at first, but soon the frenzy left though the desire didn't.  
  
It was tempting, so tempting, to forget what they were talking about. To forget the horror of the situation that they were in and focus only on the witchery of her moans and sighs, but he couldn't. They couldn't. Regretfully Vaughn pulled away from her kiss, resting his forehead against hers as he struggled for an answer.  
  
"Frankly Syd, I don't know what's going to happen, or why she really engineered this whole thing. All we can do is take it one step at a time and see what happens next."  
  
"And us Michael?" She asked fearfully, raising her head from his chest so she could look into his eyes. Eyes that always told her the truth "What happens to us?"  
  
"I hate how this happened Syd." He replied after a silence a little too long for her liking "I hate that I can't shake the feeling that there was something more I could have done, so we wouldn't have had to suffer this humiliation. I hate the fact that they tried to pervert this to suit their purpose...but Syd, I could never regret us. Ever. So, what happens to us is completely up to you. If you want us to go home and try and forget this and hope for the best, then I'll abide by your wishes. But Syd, I want more. I want you. And ultimately, I want it all with you."  
  
Vaughn found himself a little surprised at his eloquence, but he knew that about this Sydney could have no doubts. There were too many ever-changing variables in her life, for her to doubt his commitment to her, and to them.  
  
It was exactly what she needed to hear.  
  
"We should go." He said, breaking the curiously peaceful silence.  
  
"Can I stay with you tonight?"  
  
Vaughn knew he should have told her 'no'. That they still had to be vigilant. That they still had to think of SD-6, and the CIA for that matter; that their lives were still very much on the line, but his earlier epiphany left room for only one answer.  
  
"Sure."  
  
They moved swiftly, eager for the seeming privacy of his apartment. Eager to feel safe -if only when in each other's arms. Upon exiting the warehouse, they were surprised to find none of Irina's cohorts waiting. Surprised, but not unhappy. It made slipping into the shadows that much easier.  
  
*************************************************  
  
Though the physical resemblance was strong, Sydney was really nothing like her. In fact she reminded Irina of Jack, when she first knew him...all those years ago when the cold steel hadn't entered his eyes. Sydney was passionate, headstrong, brave, but so naïve. Strangely so, considering she had been a spy -and a very good one - for so many years. Her daughter still saw things in black and white.  
  
Her lover -Michael Vaughn- now he was a different matter. Originally she had written him off as an updated copy of his father; genuinely believing the rhetoric they tried to brainwash them with at Langley. She didn't hold that opinion for long. That transcript of the meeting they had had in the carwash, had proved extremely illuminating to Irina. Even the scribe had noted that 'subject beta' had seemed 'agitated' that 'subject alpha' had thought him married.  
  
She had quickly revised the importance Michael Vaughn would play in her plans, and this time around she was definitely on the mark.  
  
Michael Vaughn was not his father, and he wasn't going to try to be him. The choices he made were his own. He knew what being a 'company man' meant, and he knew that's what he wasn't prepared to be. His loyalty did not lie first and foremost with the CIA. They lay with Sydney. No matter what. She had thrown in two tests to be sure, namely Noah Hicks and Will Tippin's release for The Page. Each time, he had passed. Brilliantly.  
  
In another life, or another incarnation, Irina would have called this man her son-in-law, and she had the feeling she would have been happy, possibly even proud to do so.  
  
Shaking her head to dispel such uncharacteristically sentimental thoughts, Irina spotted Sark enter the room from the corner of her eye.  
  
"Yes?" Her displeasure was obvious. She had told them all specifically that she was going to be the only one in the room while they were recording, and that no one could enter till she said so.  
  
"They left about ten minutes ago." Sark wanted to say more, but decided just to play the dutiful third in command. Irina was so dangerous primarily because no one could predict how she would react to things. " So when do we send the tape?"  
  
"What tape?"  
  
The only reason Sark knew he had heard right, was because of the amused smile playing over Irina's face.  
  
" David, David, David." Irina began at length " What's the one thing a good agent needs to be able to do?"  
  
He wasn't sure if her question was rhetorical or not, but he had to ask, "What?"  
  
"Misdirect."  
  
"I thought that was reserved for magicians." Sarcasm was not going to help him, but for the first time in a while he had been shocked out of his usual smug comfort.  
  
"How truly different from magicians are we? We depend on sleight of hands, tricks of lights, the power of persuasion and most of all misdirection. Who do you think tipped Arvin Sloane about Page 47. It was so easy, so goddamn easy. All I had to do was let him find out through the grapevine that we wanted it, and he fell for it, hook, line and sinker, taking the CIA with him, and I'll grant you it was important. But prophecies are tricky things -you know I think I just stole that line from somewhere, but for the life of me I can remember where- especially two-parter ones written by mediaeval mystics with a penchant for paranoia. I suppose it's not their fault that they didn't know about Page 48. After all we've had it for years in our possession and it was only in the last year that our people figured it out."  
  
"So you mean."It was the first time in forever that Sark could remember being scared. This woman thought of everything. Once she had you in her sights, she owned you.  
  
"That's right David.it talked about them. I think it went something along the lines of spilt blood binding hearts blood. Poetic...if you like doggerel, but the long and the short of it was that Rambaldi predicted that Sydney and Michael Vaughn, together, would be able to stop me. They were the 'vulgar cost' as such."  
  
Irina found herself a little disappointed that David had taken so long to figure it out. She had a feeling Sydney or Michael Vaughn wouldn't have taken so long, but she quickly dismissed the thought. It was never wise to plan too far ahead. The last time she had done that, she had had to take an unscheduled trip into the Pacific and suck on tire air.  
  
"So what was the point of this then? There's no tape, you obviously never had any intention of making one, and somehow I doubt you're trying to help your daughter's love life. What are you not telling me Irina?"  
  
He didn't think she would tell him. So it was typical of Irina to actually answer his question, with a question of her own.  
  
"Why is Arvin Sloane's most dangerous enemy Sydney?" Fairly sure, he wasn't meant to answer her, Sark waited -as patiently as he could till she decided to continue. " He tried to take away everything from her. To leave her with nothing. The person most dangerous to you, is the person who has nothing to lose. I gave Sydney two things she could lose, just as I did Agent Vaughn. And because those are the two thing neither are ready to give up, that neither can ...very simply put, I've won"  
  
"How.?" It was making sense in a Machiavellian way, but there were so many gaps she hadn't filled in. Things he just had to know. Luckily Irina seemed to be in a good, or at least a loquacious mood.  
  
"Nothing in Sydney's life has ever been an accident, with the exception -amusingly enough- of meeting Agent Vaughn. Ms Calfo has been in deep cover for years, but I assure you she's one of our most loyal agents. Not to mention our best. She walks a very fine line every day, and she has never forgotten which side she belongs to...You'd be wise to remember that David." Sark tried to interrupt but she continued, apparently oblivious "It was easy for Francine to switch Sydney's birth control with placebos, and also to administer the estrogen supplements. Congratulate me David, I'm going to be a grandmother in 9 months time."  
  
The End  
  
Vaughn recitation in French was from'I Sing The Body Electric' by Walt Whitman. The verses are out of order the way he tells it to Sydney, but in their situation, it actually makes more sense for him to quote those bits to her, at the particular times he does.  
  
I translated it, so forgive me if my translation is rusty. It's been way too many years since I have done some serious translating and I'm seriously rusty...geez, redundant much?  
  
I'll put the translations in the order that they appeared, and below that, I'll also have a copy of the poem in English. Whitman is a highly erotic poet. If there is anyone who hasn't read him (my God have you people been living under a rock?) I suggest you read Leaves of Grass as soon as you can. You can even find copies of it free online.  
  
BTW Anam Cara is Gaelic.  
  
Translations:  
  
1) N'Etre pas d'honteux, la femme-votre privilège enclot le repos, et est la sortie du repos;  
  
Be not ashamed, woman-your privilege encloses the rest, and is the exit of the rest;  
  
2) Comme je voit mon âme reflété dans nature; Comme je voit par une brume, celui avec inexpressible et beauté, Voit le courbé tête, et bras a plié le sein-le femelle je voit.  
  
As I see my soul reflected in nature; As I see through a mist, one with inexpressible completeness and beauty, See the bent head, and arms folded over the breast-the female I see  
  
3) la pièce hors de cela-la réponse de la même manière ungovernable; les Cheveux, le sein, les hanches, le tournant de jambes, les mains négligentes qui tombant, tout diffusé-la mine trop diffusée; Baisser piquée par le flux, et le flux piquée par le grossir d'ebb-love-chair et délicieuxment le faire mal;  
  
Mad filaments, ungovernable shoots play out of it-the response likewise ungovernable; Hair, bosom, hips, bend of legs, negligent falling hands, all diffused-mine too diffused; Ebb stung by the flow, and flow stung by the ebb-love-flesh swelling and deliciously aching;  
  
4) Ceci est le femelle forme; Un divin nimbus exhale d'il de tête payer; Il attire avec féroce indéniable attraction! Je suis dessiné par son souffle comme si j'étais non plus qu'une vapeur impuissante-toutes chutes de côté mais me et il;  
  
This is the female form; A divine nimbus exhales from it from head to foot; It attracts with fierce undeniable attraction! I am drawn by its breath as if I were no more than a helpless vapor-all falls aside but myself and it;  
  
This is the female form,  
  
A divine nimbus exhales from it from head to foot,  
  
It attracts with fierce undeniable attraction,  
  
I am drawn by its breath as if I were no more than a helpless vapor, all falls aside but myself and it,  
  
Books, art, religion, time, the visible and solid earth, and what was expected of heaven or fear'd of hell, are now consumed,  
  
Mad filaments, ungovernable shoots play out of it, the response likewise ungovernable,  
  
Hair, bosom, hips, bend of legs, negligent falling hands all diffused, mine too diffused,  
  
Ebb stung by the flow and flow stung by the ebb, love-flesh swelling and deliciously aching,  
  
Limitless limpid jets of love hot and enormous, quivering jelly of love, white-blow and delirious juice,  
  
Bridegroom night of love working surely and softly into the prostrate dawn,  
  
Undulating into the willing and yielding day,  
  
Lost in the cleave of the clasping and sweet-flesh'd day. This the nucleus -- after the child is born of woman, man is born of woman,  
  
This the bath of birth, this the merge of small and large, and the outlet again. Be not ashamed women, your privilege encloses the rest, and is the exit of the rest,  
  
You are the gates of the body, and you are the gates of the soul. The female contains all qualities and tempers them,  
  
She is in her place and moves with perfect balance,  
  
She is all things duly veil'd, she is both passive and active,  
  
She is to conceive daughters as well as sons, and sons as well as daughters. As I see my soul reflected in Nature,  
  
As I see through a mist, One with inexpressible completeness, sanity, beauty,  
  
See the bent head and arms folded over the breast, the Female I see. 


End file.
